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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22680880">your lovely person holds me softly</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account'>orphan_account</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Voltron: Legendary Defender</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bottom Lance (Voltron), Comfort Sex, First Time, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Implied/Referenced Suicide, I’m so sorry, Lance (Voltron) Has Anxiety, Last Kiss, M/M, Mental Illness, References to Depression, Top Keith (Voltron), Valentine's Day, does it work?? we will never know, keith’s dad sucks, this is not a very sweet valentines fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-02-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 08:40:23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Underage</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,461</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22680880</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>this was their last chance.</p><p>keith’s father was walking around upstairs, drunk out of his skull. keith pressed lance against the couch, kissing him, and lance whined into his mouth.</p><p>they had to be so, so quiet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Keith/Lance (Voltron)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>112</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>your lovely person holds me softly</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>tw: implied suicide, self harm, depression, all that stuff that i like to write about</p><p>i apologize in advance if this is bad i wrote this in like half an hour, i didn’t have anything else prepared for valentine’s day except for some heavy ass klangst</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was their last chance.</p><p>Keith’s father was walking around upstairs, drunk out of his skull. Keith pressed Lance against the couch, kissing him, and Lance whined into his mouth.</p><p>They had to be so, so quiet.</p><p>It was Valentine’s Day, and this was all Lance’s idea.</p><p>“I wanna... do it with you,” he’d admitted quietly, a few days ago at lunch. They were hiding in one of the emergency stairwells at school, sitting on the steps, and Lance was holding Keith’s hand.</p><p>“You do?” Keith murmured. He held Lance’s hand tighter, squeezing his fingers tight around his palm.</p><p>Lance nodded. “Yeah... I mean, we’ve been dating for months, right? And - and it’s almost Valentines...”</p><p>Keith nodded. “Yeah.”</p><p>Everything was going to shit.</p><p>Lance’s panic attacks were coming back, worse than ever now. Keith had stayed up all night for the past two weeks, just waiting for the phone call that nearly always came. The shaking, terrified voice from the other side of the phone... Lance, sobbing and scared. </p><p>Nearly every night. </p><p>Just last Wednesday, Lance had relapsed. Thin pink lines, scratched all up and down his arms. Perfect and precise, not deep enough to kill; rose thorns caught on dark skin. </p><p>Keith hadn’t scolded him like he used to. He was too tired.</p><p>They’d hid in the bathroom, and Keith dabbed Polysporin on Lance’s scratches and wrapped him up in gauze. Lance didn’t ask why Keith had all that in his bag, ready to go.</p><p>Keith gave his cuts a kiss and hugged him, tight.</p><p>Then he went home and copied him.</p><p>Keith’s methods were a lot more haphazard than Lance’s... deeper and in no particular order. Horizontal, diagonal, vertical. Nearly enough to introduce him to God.</p><p>Lance cried when he noticed. Today, in Keith’s basement, under the blankets, Keith held Lance’s wrists. Lance was still in his sweater; Keith, in a black short-sleeved t-shirt.</p><p>“Keith,” Lance choked, “you hurt yourself.”</p><p>Keith looked at his forearms and winced. “Yeah...” he admitted.</p><p>Everything was going to shit.</p><p>Keith’s dad was still stomping around up there. Getting drunker by the minute. (That had been happening more often, too. As the drinks multiplied, so did Keith’s bruises.)</p><p>Lance gasped, tears streaming down his face.</p><p>“Shh, hey,” Keith whispered. He wiped Lance’s eyes with his thumb. “Are you okay?”</p><p>Lance nodded frantically.</p><p>“Do you still want to do this?”</p><p>Lance nodded again. “Yeah... please? I just... don’t like seeing you hurt.”</p><p>Keith smiled. He lowered himself so that his nose brushed against Lance’s. “I know you don’t, baby,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I love you.”</p><p>The TV was on in the corner of the den, and some game show was playing... the audience applauded, ooh-ing and aw-ing. <br/>“I love you, too,” Lance told him quietly.</p><p>“Are you ready?”</p><p>Lance smiled up at him. It was dark down there, and musty; dust particles shimmered in the dim light from the television screen. He was still crying, just a little... “Yeah. I’m ready.”</p><p>Keith kissed him. “Okay,” he said.</p><p>He slipped his hands under Lance’s shirt and helped him pull it over his head.</p><p> </p><p>Keith had no idea how Lance could possibly feel anything close to what Keith was feeling right now.</p><p>Lance was just so good beneath him. Flawless. He kept making these noises...</p><p>“Baby, shh,” Keith whispered, pressing a finger lightly over Lance’s lips. Lance’s chest shuddered, and he arched, just slightly. “Does it feel good?”</p><p>Lance nodded way too fast for way too long. “Y-yeah,” he whispered. “You... you feel so good, Keith...”</p><p>Keith moved his hips a little faster, and Lance’s eyes screwed shut, humming rhythmically. His eyes opened suddenly, just hazy; stormy blue irises rolling back.</p><p>“There,” he whined, voice cracking. “Oh my god, right there, Keith, right there — you’re hitting it.”</p><p>Keith smiled, breathing hitching, shallow and fast. “That nice?”</p><p>Lance moaned, and his back arched even more. “Oh my fucking god,” he whispered. “I-I think I’m — getting close.”</p><p>Keith went faster.</p><p>His dad punched the door to the basement from upstairs. “Quiet the fuck down!” he shouted; in Keith’s imagination, the house shook.</p><p>Keith cupped Lance’s cheeks. Lance’s eyes filled with tears of a different kind.</p><p>“I love you,” Keith told him. “I love you. I love you...”</p><p>“I — love — you,” Lance choked out, the couch moving and creaking beneath them. “I — ah — I love — you — ah, too —“</p><p>And then they were done, and Lance shoved the side of his hand in his mouth and bit down on his skin to keep from screaming.</p><p>Keith buried his face in Lance’s shoulder, groaning, muffled in the pillow beneath Lance’s head. “So good,” he praised, “so good, Lance, you did so good. Thank you, baby, you did such a good job...”</p><p>Lance was still crying, and it seemed like he’d never stop.</p><p> </p><p>“Was that the last thing on our list?” Keith whispered after.</p><p>They were cuddling beneath the blankets, and they’d put their shirts on boxers back on. (But not their own. They’d traded... Lance liked to wear Keith’s clothes, and Keith wasn’t complaining, either. All of Lance’s sweaters smelled so much like him, and felt like warmth. Like a hug... like home.)</p><p>“I dunno,” Lance whispered. “I think it was.”</p><p>They’d made a list. </p><p>Back when they first started dating, nearly ten months ago.</p><p>All the things they wanted to do together before they died.</p><p>See a movie. Go on walks. Slow dance.</p><p>Have sex.</p><p>“I think we’re done,” Keith whispered in disbelief.</p><p>“So...” Lance went on. Someone was awarded the grand prize on TV, and the studio audience went crazy, screaming and cheering and losing their minds. “hypothetically, we could... y’know.”</p><p>Keith brushed Lance’s bangs back with the back of his hand. “Baby,” he whispered.</p><p>They’d talked about suicide before.</p><p>Texted about it. Talked about it, ‘hypothetically’, during lunch...</p><p>Keith knew Lance wanted to go.</p><p>And, maybe not-so deep down, Keith wanted to leave, too.</p><p>There was nothing for them here. This town hated queers. Keith was pretty sure if he didn’t kill himself first, his dad might.</p><p>And Lance...</p><p>Lance was just in this darkness, all the time.</p><p>He pretended not to be. He’d laugh too much, too loudly, and crack ‘I’m-gonna-kill-myself’ jokes to his other friends all the time...</p><p>None of Lance’s other friends knew about him and Keith. </p><p>They kept it secret. If they didn’t, they’d be dead for sure. Burned at the stake. Death penalty, crime: true love.</p><p>Keith brought Lance closer, pressing their foreheads together. “If you want to go, I’ll go with you. I’ll go anywhere with you, Lance, you know that.”</p><p>Lance nodded. He wasn’t crying anymore. “I know,” he said. </p><p>Bottles clanged around upstairs. </p><p>“Do you want to?” Keith asked. “Now?”</p><p>Whatever the answer, he wouldn’t be mad.</p><p>Whatever the answer, he’d understand.</p><p>And whatever Lance decided on, Keith would do, too.</p><p>“I think so,” Lance breathed.</p><p>Keith kissed him with everything he had.</p><p>Then he reached in his bag for the pill bottles he’d collected. All the ones he was able to hide from his dad, steal from cupboards at parties... some were even snatched from Lance’s mom.</p><p>There were fifteen bottles... they each took two from every bottle, washing them down with a half-full Gatorade bottle from Keith’s backpack.</p><p>Lance was crying again. “I’m scared,” he whispered, choking.</p><p>“I know, baby, I know. Me too, I am too.”</p><p>Lance pressed his face into Keith’s chest. Keith’s dad was yelling something upstairs, but everything was dimmer now; even sounds were fuzzy and far away. Lance shivered uncontrollably.</p><p>Keith put an earbud in Lance’s ear, and kept the other one to himself.</p><p>“I’m goin’ with you,” Keith told him. “I’m not gonna let you do this alone.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Lance sobbed. He was slurring now, and he sounded so far away. Keith could barely keep his eyes open... he just wanted to sleep. “I love you more than anybody I’ve ever loved before.”</p><p>“I know,” Keith told him. “I know. I love you more. I love you even more.”</p><p>Lance’s breathing slowed nearly to a stop.</p><p>Keith’s father’s heavy footsteps were pounding down the stairs, and he was shouting... Keith couldn’t hear him anymore.</p><p>“Goodnight, Lance,” Keith said softly. He gave him a kiss on the tip of his nose.</p><p>“G’night,” Lance murmured. Keith could hear him smiling; Keith smiled back, eyes closed. </p><p>This was a peaceful way to die.</p><p> </p><p>‘I don’t want to leave,<br/>Why don’t you let me leave?<br/>Just like everybody?<br/>Just like everybody...?<br/>I’ve become so numb to your affections<br/>Coming down on me,<br/>Why do you want me to stay?<br/>You’re not like anybody.</p><p>I’ve become so numb to your affections,<br/>Coming down on me;<br/>Why do you want me to stay?<br/>You’re not like anybody.’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay so the song they’re listening to is ‘affection’ by scruffpuppie if u wanna check it out. he’s so good. please listen.</p><p>i’ve been having a not so good time recently if u can’t tell aha</p><p>maybe a fluffier fic later this week? i feel kinda bad that this isnt the sugary valentines fic u were probably expecting aha</p><p>thx for reading! kudos and comments are appreciated, feedback keeps me going :)</p></blockquote></div></div>
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